The Submissive's Last Word (The Power to Please #4) (7 page)

This rediscovery of art was one more thing I had to thank
Gibson for. He remembered I had mentioned enjoying drawing once, and the day
after I arrived at the estate, a delivery truck pulled up outside my cottage
and a couple of men unloaded what must have been half the inventory of a small
art supply store into the cottage’s workroom.

I spent several hours sorting through it all. Paints,
canvases, brushes, markers, chemicals, washes, palettes, different kinds of
paper, on and on, it was like an artist’s dream. And I had no idea how to use a
lot of it. I picked out what I could use and stored the rest.

Mostly, I’d been drawing. In the past three or four days,
I’d been adding color to my work with pastels. I’d brought them to the picnic,
along with my black and white tools of the trade.

I shaded my eyes and scanned the lawn down to where I saw a
thin trail of smoke rising into the air. The smoke marked the pit where a full
pig was being roasted. It was there that I saw who I sought: Gibson.

His main job was to tend the pig, and he looked as if he
were taking his duty seriously. He held a long stick and from time to time,
poked it into the low-burning fire. Tough job, I thought with a grin.

Gibson was all in white like the rest of us, decked out in
1920’s pants, jacket and straw hat. He should have been boating on the lake
with a fru-fru maiden, strumming a ukulele and serenading her about how he had
no bananas.

I watched him covertly glance around himself. Then in a
flash, he whipped the hat off his head and tossed it into the fire. He poked it
into the coals with his stick, and the straw went up in a short-lived,
brilliant burst of flames.

I didn’t know which was funnier, that he had burned up his
hat, or that he felt he had to sneak around to do it.

He shrugged out of his jacket, next, and I half-expected him
to chuck it into the fire after the hat. But no, he tossed it over the back of
a nearby chair, then rolled up his shirt sleeves and returned to dutifully
tending the roasting pig.

“There you are!”

I turned toward the female voice that snapped me out of
admiring Gibson. It was Elaine, Ron close behind her, both smiling widely.

We hugged and said our hellos. They looked appropriately
summery, Elaine in a colorful sundress and Ron in a lightweight leisure suit.

Ron patted me on the head, his characteristic gesture with
me. “How you doin’ darlin’?”

“I’m fine. You?”

“Good. Good.” He looked out over the grounds, stroked his
beard a few times. “Pretty fancy event here.”

“Yeah, but mostly it’s eccentric. That’s Paulina for you.”

“A fine lady,” Ron said. “Met us on the way down here. Say,
is that Gibson over there? What’s he doin’? Is that a fire?”

“Pig pit.”

A gleam of interest sparked in his eye. “You don’t say.
Think I’ll head on over there and check it out. Ladies.”

We watched him stroll away.

“I’ll bet you ten dollars that half the men at the picnic
will be over there in the next fifteen minutes,” Elaine said.

I laughed. “I say three quarters of them in half that time.”

She smiled. “Probably so.”

I couldn’t resist asking, “How did Paulina look when you saw
her?”

Elaine waved over a waiter and grabbed a tall drink with an
umbrella in it. She took a sip before answering my question. “Good.”

“You told Ron yet that you’ve got a thing for her?”

“I have not.”

“I didn’t think that was allowed. Aren’t you supposed to
tell each other when you’re into somebody?”

She lowered her voice, “I’m not even sure I’m actually into
her. You’re making more out of this than there is. I wish I’d never said
anything.”

“Technically, you didn’t. I kind of dragged it out of you.”

“Well then I wish I’d never let you drag it out of me. It’s
nothing. Forget about it.”

Her face was flushed slightly, and she was clearly out of
sorts. I took pity on her. “Okay, okay.”

We watched Ron greet Gibson. In short order, Ron had his own
stick and was poking at the fire. I had no idea where he found the stick, since
I was pretty sure Paulina had declared war on every loose twig on the estate.
It wasn’t like her to lose a battle.

I convinced Elaine to let me sketch her, so she took up a
relaxed, somewhat self-conscious pose by the gelato cart and I settled into
drawing.

I tried to work fast, knowing the guests wouldn’t want to dawdle
long for a sketch. I was curious to see how well I could do in a short amount
of time. Soon, I forgot everything, didn’t hear what was happening around me,
was lost in the lines of Elaine’s dress, the curve of her calf, the angle of
her forearm.

I became annoyed when I noticed Elaine shifting slightly. I
glanced up to tell her to stay still, and realized she looked uncomfortable,
and red. Bright red. Then I heard it. Paulina’s voice, coming from behind me.

“See, right there, the perspective isn’t correct with the
cart, not in relation to how Elaine is standing.”

I glowered at my drawing. Ugh. She was right. I reached for
my eraser.

“I’ve told her many times,” Paulina said, “that if she wants
to become truly good, she needs to practice more. I even offered to let her
draw Toy, while he’s working of course. She could set up near the compost bins,
where she wouldn’t be in anyone’s way.”

I refused to respond, just rubbed out a corner of the gelato
cart.

I recognized Xavier’s voice. “Hush, Paulina. She’s talented
and you know it.”

I turned and flashed him a small, grateful smile. He looked
dapper in white linen.

Paulina was having none of it. “Just because she’s talented
doesn’t mean she doesn’t have to work hard. I’m sure that if I had been
interested in drawing, I would have been great at it, because I would have
practiced.”

“And look at that,” she continued. “Elaine has such a tiny
waist. Nonnie made it too thick. See how delicately her waist curves into her
hip? The swell of it. Ripe is what it is. Wouldn’t you call that ripe, Xavier?”

I looked up at Elaine, and was unsurprised to see her face
turning an even deeper shade of red.

“Elaine has a lovely figure,” Xavier said, then under his
breath, where I could barely hear it and was certain Elaine could not, he
added, “You’re embarrassing the woman. Have mercy.”

Paulina whispered her response. “I can’t help myself. Isn’t
she precious?”

In a clear voice, she said, “Nonnie, nip in that waist some,
and her breasts are larger. Rounder and larger. Don’t you think?”

I shrugged, erased around the waist in the drawing. “Were
you speaking to me? I wasn’t aware my opinion entered into this conversation.”

Paulina laughed, a tinkly, carrying sound. “Never mind then.
What do you think, Xavier? Aren’t her breasts larger than they’re drawn?”

I peeked over the paper at Elaine. Poor Elaine. She looked
like she was contemplating escape routes.

“All right dear, no more,” Xavier said in a casual tone.
“You’ve tortured our friends long enough. Let’s go. There are over forty other
people here you’ve yet to embarrass, and I demand each one have their turn.”

Paulina gave a dramatic sigh. She wore a long sheath of a
sparkly, flapper’s dress, with fringe on the bottom, perfect with her bobbed
hair and the beaded band she wore across her forehead. “Fine. I wouldn’t want
to neglect them. Oh, and Nonnie. Save that drawing for me. You don’t mind if I
keep it, do you Elaine?”

Elaine gave a minute shake of her head.

Paulina beamed at her. “Wonderful. Well, enjoy yourselves
ladies. I’m off to mingle. Come, Toy.”

And with that, she glided away across the lawn, one hand
resting lightly on Xavier’s forearm, her other hand holding a silver chain that
clipped to Toy’s collar, pulling him along in her queenly wake.

I turned to Elaine. “You okay?”

She straightened her back. “Of course I am.”

“Okay, well, I’m pretty much done if you want to move around
again.”

“Whew!” She shook her arms around, stretched her legs. “That
took forever, honey.”

I looked at the small clock I’d sat on my table. “Actually,
it was only like fifteen minutes.”

She came over and stood behind me. I stared critically at
the drawing. I had to admit that Paulina’s criticisms had been dead-on, as they
usually were. Confounded woman.

Elaine laid a hand on my shoulder then leaned down and
kissed my cheek. “Thank you, honey. You’ve left off at least ten pounds and ten
years of wrinkles.”

“I did not. That’s exactly how you look.”

“Aww, you really do love me. You’re totally blind.”

We caught a surge of group movement from the direction of
the pig pit. Paulina was sailing toward the pit with her small entourage in
tow.

I saw in an instant that the pit had, indeed, drawn most of
the men at the picnic. There had to be more than a dozen of them standing
around, many of them with stick-in-hand, poking at the coals along with Gibson
and Ron.

Several of the men spotted Paulina coming, and broke rank,
making for other attractions with a rapidity that suggested they knew their
hostess wouldn’t be pleased with their fascination for a roasting pig, not when
she had gone to such effort to provide other activities for them.

A couple other men stepped away before Paulina arrived in
full state. I kind of wished I was there to hear what she said, since whatever
it was, four or five more men suddenly discovered there was somewhere else
they’d rather be.

In short order, only a handful of men remained: Gibson, Ron,
Xavier, Toy and an older man I didn’t know. After a brief exchange, Paulina
turned to leave, but Xavier didn’t follow her. I smiled when I saw the stick in
his hand.

Paulina said something to the men, but they didn’t respond.
Or at least, no one but the older, unknown man responded. He rushed over to
Paulina, offered her his arm. Then off she went, Toy trailing behind.

I was uncommonly proud of the three men who held their own
with her, Gibson, Ron and Xavier. “Good for them.”

“She’s a powerful woman,” Elaine said.

I knew a semi-gush when I heard it. “Yeah, and she wants
your picture. What do you think it means?”

Elaine snorted. “Nothing. She just likes your drawing.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Where were you when she was hating
everything I’d done?”

“She wouldn’t criticize it if she didn’t like it. That’s how
she is.”

“I see. You’re a Paulina expert now.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you’d like to be.”

She propped her hands on her hips, her ripe hips no less.
“You’re seriously full of it today. I’m glad to see it, but I’m out of here.
I’m going to tear Ron away from that pig and make him play croquet with me.”

“Okay, have fun. I’ll stay here and redraw your boobs bigger,
so Paulina won’t bitch at me when I give her your picture.”

Elaine walked off, mumbling under her breath. I grinned and
watched her go. Then, I actually did redraw her boobs.

Chapter 6

I stayed at my post for the majority of the afternoon. I didn’t
do it because I believed I had to obey Paulina, but more because I still wasn’t
entirely comfortable in crowds, even friendly ones, and staying on the fringes
of the event helped me relax.

A number of people approached while I drew, asked a few questions,
wanted me to draw them. I enjoyed talking to them and giving them their
drawings. Everyone was graciously polite, even when my skills weren’t up to
snuff.

Most of the people at the picnic were older contemporaries
of the Martins. But there were some guests in their early thirties, around my
age. I didn’t see any centenarians in assless chaps, which was both a relief
and something of a disappointment.

I knew all of these people were either in the BDSM scene, or
were lifestyle friendly; Xavier had told me as much. They weren’t decked out in
kink wear for the picnic, but instead were dressed in fine, summer wear.

I didn’t spend the entire afternoon drawing. I abandoned my
post to eat and drink and take a break or two to watch badminton and croquet.
As for Gibson, I didn’t get to speak to him much, only a few words in passing.
I complimented his tasty pig, he approved of my drawings.

By early evening, I was drooping and ready to call it quits.
I packed up my gear and was in the process of slipping away to my cottage when
Toy ran up and stopped me.

“Mistress Paulina asks that you not leave yet.”

“Only if you tell me why. Is it because she’s counting on me
for something, perhaps?”

He shrugged his massive shoulders.

We heard Paulina’s voice calling out over the crowd, and we
turned to find her.

Paulina had mounted one of the small stages and now stood in
front of a closed curtain, asking everyone to gather around for an
announcement.

I was curious in spite of myself, so I piled my things onto
the table and followed Toy into the crowd. He left me in his wake, and headed
over behind one of the stages.

Paulina beamed at everyone and held out her hands. “Thank
you all for coming today. As you know, the theme has been a step back in time,
and I have something special planned which I hope you’ll all enjoy.”

“I was reading the other day,” she said, “about something
that was popular in the nineteenth century and I thought it would be fun to
give it a try. It’s called tableaux vivants, or living pictures. The idea is to
dress people in costumes and have them depict a still life scene. Usually the
scenes were historical, but the most popular ones were naughty. Imagine that.”

A low chuckle riffled through the crowd.

“I thought,” she said in a suggestive tone, “to do some
tableaux vivants today, and you just know I wouldn’t have it any way but
naughty. I present to you a selection of book covers from racy, historical
romance novels. It’s easier to show you than to explain it. See for yourself —
the first tableau!”

She waved an arm with a flourish and the curtain behind her
drew aside. My mouth dropped open.

Two people stood center stage, posed as still as could be,
both wearing scraps of animal fur and ratty wigs with bones sticking out
haphazardly. The pair was obviously a caveman and a cavewoman. The mountainous
caveman toted a huge wooden club over his shoulder, and his other meaty hand
tangled in the hair of a scantily-clad, kneeling woman. They were paused in
time, stopped in the moment, the caveman sure of his prize, the cavewoman a
snapshot of struggle, her face impassioned, her hands trying in vain to pry her
way out of his mighty grasp.

It was indeed a living picture of a steamy romance novel
cover set in prehistoric times. But that’s not what made my mouth drop open.
No, it was the identity of the two actors on the stage: Ron and Elaine Hoyte.

When, exactly, Paulina managed to convince those two to star
in this scene was unknown to me. Elaine never hinted at it.

“It’s a tale from the dawn of time,” Paulina called out, her
voice raised for drama’s sake. “Grop, the mighty clan leader, charges into
battle to defend his sacred cave from greedy invaders. His eventual victory
ensures the survival of his people, and offers ample opportunity for the taking
of spoils. Curva, the freshly-widowed nubile wife of the invaders’ ruler, vows
never to submit to the man who took everything she knew. But Grop is a hard man
to deny. Can he plunder Curva’s heart, too?”

Titters and chuckles passed through the crowd.

Paulina added, “I’ve got a prize for whoever calls out the
best title for our prehistoric epic.”

“Clubbed and Conquered!” someone yelled.

Another, “On the Wings of a Pterodactyl!”

“Claimed by the Caveman!”

“A Mammoth Love!”

Several more ideas were shouted out until Paulina raised her
hands and declared, “I’ve chosen my favorite. The winner is ‘Claimed by the
Caveman!’”

We applauded. Paulina tossed the winning woman a small item.
When she held it up and waved it around, I saw it was a plastic dinosaur.

The curtain closed on the Clan of Hoyte and a few men helped
Paulina cross over to the second stage where she once again stationed herself
off to one side.

Her voice rang out over the crowd. “Next up, tableau number
two!”

The curtains swung back, revealing a new pair of lovers.
This time, it was Toy and a woman I didn’t know but had seen around the picnic
that day, a pretty woman around my own age. I had seen her talking to Gibson at
one point, and had felt a stab of jealousy which took me by surprise.

The scene was set in ancient Egypt. Toy was decked out in
Pharaoh garb, from golden sandals up to a false beard and full headdress. He
even wore a linen skirt of sorts, and I realized that was the most clothing I’d
ever seen him wear.

The woman was in tattered slave garb and had a bobbed black
wig perched on her head. She was half sprawled across the floor of the stage,
looking up at Pharaoh and reaching for him in a beseeching manner. Her breasts
were playing peek-a-boo through the gaping rents in her soiled tunic.

Pharaoh Toy towered over her, staring down at her with a
long flail dangling from his hand.

Paulina narrated the scene. “Pharaoh Nakembottum is the most
powerful man in the world, and can have any woman he wants, but what he wants
most is the beautiful slave girl — oh good grief, Toy. Try to look at least a
little bit commanding! Really now. Puff out your chest. You’re an intimidating
alpha male — oh, never mind.”

There were a few chuckles in the crowd, and I worked hard to
suppress mine. Toy made the most ridiculous-looking Pharaoh I’d ever seen. He
held the flail with apparent distrust, as if it might turn on him of its own
will and take to whacking him. He was as intimidating as an oversized bunny.

Paulina marched up to the two and hissed commands which we
in the crowd couldn’t hear. In short order, she had them reverse positions,
leaving the slave girl holding the flail and looming menacingly over the
cowering Pharaoh.

Paulina headed back to her former spot. “Sorry for the
interruption. Now, here we have a novel set in ancient Egypt. Pharaoh
Nakembottum is the ruler of all he surveys and can have anything he wants. But
what he wants most is to submit to a beautiful, powerful woman. Titbust is a
lowly servant, bought to service the Pharaoh. When he gives her his ceremonial
flail, she can’t wait to unleash all her long-suppressed slave-rage on his
kingly, tender flesh. Two people from two different worlds. Can something more
grow between these star-crossed lovers?”

The crowd murmured its delight. Paulina called for book
titles.

One man offered up to groans, “Is That A Crook and Flail In
Your Pocket or Are You Just Happy to See Me?”

“Pyramids of Pain!”

“S&M Among the Sand Dunes!”

“Plaguing the Pharaoh!”

“Love’s Denial on the Nile!”

A few more called out, then Paulina declared “Plaguing the
Pharaoh” as the winner for its clever reference to the Biblical plagues of
Egypt. She tossed the winner a plastic mummy doll.

We applauded. As Paulina made her way back to the first
stage, Xavier came up to me.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked.

“I am. I can’t wait to see what’s next.”

“Well, about that. Paulina was hoping you’d come with me.
She has something in mind for you.”

I immediately saw what he was getting at. “Nope. Not gonna
do it. I’m not getting up on a stage.”

“She has a great cover in mind for you. Found a nice man to
be in it with you.”

“Gibson?”

“No. Not a chance. He doesn’t do public displays. I know the
man she picked, though. You’ll like him.”

“Well, it wouldn’t have mattered if it were Gibson. I’m not
doing it. I’m not ready, Xavier. I may never be ready.”

“Would you at least try? Come back behind the stage with me.
Meet the man. Come on. Just take a look.”

I sighed. It was hard to say no to these people. I nodded
and we worked our way through the crowd to the curtained stage while Paulina
unveiled her third tableaux, which looked like a pairing of a Roman soldier and
woman fleeing from something unseen. I recognized the couple as guests I’d
drawn earlier in the day.

Paulina explained that the couple was running from the
eruption of Mount Vesuvius and the setting was ancient Pompeii. Xavier led me
behind the second stage where a dozen people were rushing around putting on and
removing costumes.

He pointed out a good-looking man I’d seen playing croquet.
“You’ll go on with Peter over there. Your scene is still three away. You’ll be
a gypsy and he’ll be a country lord.”

“Nope.”

Xavier gave me a long, sad look. “It’s not a big crowd out
there. And no one’s asking you to reveal anything. You’ll wear what you have
on, just add a gypsy shawl and jewelry. It would be a good first step for you.”

“I’m not ready.”

He nodded. “Okay, but wait here for a little bit and think
about it. Can you do that?”

I agreed, but only to appease him. Nothing was going to
change my mind. Xavier walked off, and Elaine came up to me, still decked out
in cavewoman gear.

“Hey there, Curva,” I said. “Where’s BamBam?”

“Costume change. He’s also playing Genghis Kahn.”

“What’s next for you?”

“It’ll be a while. I’m a Russian spy. You know, Cold War,
taken captive by an American agent.”

“Lust and Lies in the Interrogation Room?”

“Good one.”

“Thanks.”

Elaine gave me a steady look. “And what are you going to
be?”

“No one. I’m not doing it.”

“Come on, Nonnie. It’s fun. Really.”

“No, I’m not ready.”

We stood together quietly, watched Ron cram a fur-trimmed
helmet on his head. Xavier walked by, gave me a “so, have you changed your mind
yet” look. I had not.

I waited for the inevitable, and sure enough, it came.

I heard Paulina announce the winner of the Pompeii tableau,
“Passion in Ashes,” then say she’d be right back.

She headed straight for me.

“You can’t say no,” she told me. “I need you. Someone has to
be the gypsy, and that’s why you’re wearing that outfit. It’s all been planned.
You can’t back out.”

“I’m not backing out. I never agreed to it in the first
place.”

“It will be good for you.”

It wasn’t easy saying no to everyone, but I couldn’t do what
they wanted. Every time I thought of standing on that stage in front of all those
people, my palms got sweaty.

“I don’t care,” I said. “I’m not doing it. But you all have
fun. I’m going home.”

“Nonnie Crawford,” she said in a crisp, commanding voice,
“you get back here and do your job. You’re letting everyone down.”

That was too much. I turned on her. “I most certainly am
not. Am I letting you down, Elaine?”

She looked at me, then at Paulina. Her expression said she
wished I’d left her out of it.

“Am I letting you down, Elaine?” I repeated.

After another quick glance at a fearsome Paulina, Elaine
looked at me. “No, honey, you’re not letting me down.”

“Thank you,” I said. “So quit exaggerating, Paulina. Have
fun. I’m exhausted. I’m going home. Good night.”

Paulina harrumphed behind me, but I didn’t care. I’d taken
my last order from that woman, for one day at any rate. I marched over to where
I’d left my art supplies, gathered them up, and headed off at a brisk pace
toward my cottage.

Paulina was back on stage in no time, announcing the latest
tableau, Genghis Kahn and a ... did she say nun? A man in the crowd jumped the
gun on the title contest and called out, “Love Me or Cleave Me.”

I heard footsteps jogging up behind me, and I stopped
abruptly, turning in an angry rush, expecting to see Toy, prepared to give him
hell.

Except it wasn’t Toy. It was Gibson.

Gibson slowed as he came up beside me. “Here, let me help.”

He took most of the supplies from me. “You’re leaving early.
Are you coming back?”

We began walking again. “No,” I answered. “I’ve had enough
of Paulina’s fete.”

“She’s been riding you hard today.”

It surprised me that he noticed. “It’s been a long day.”

“Agreed. I hope you know that Paulina likes you. She
actually planned the tableaux specifically with you in mind.”

“Now I feel guilty.”

“No, don’t do that.”

“I wish I could have done it. It’s just, I couldn’t get on
that stage. I’m not ready.”

“It’s okay. Paulina pushes too hard.”

“I hope she’s not mad, or upset.”

“She’ll get over it.”

I shrugged. “She might as well. I can’t do anything about
it.”

We strolled the path in silence as the sounds of the crowd
and Paulina’s voice faded behind us. I could still smell the faint odor of
burning wood from the pig pit, and the ever-present scent of freshly-mowed
grass.